


The Performance

by reyofsunlight



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Parent Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:28:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25192405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reyofsunlight/pseuds/reyofsunlight
Summary: An Everlark college theater AU
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	The Performance

Peeta POV

I stared up at the freshly-printed callback list tacked to the wall. This sight was hardly a novel experience for me; I’d tried out for about a dozen plays since I first started at Panem University, and I’d seen my name on a sheet like this one just as many times as I’d searched and found it missing. On stage I’d always felt confident and steady, no matter if the audience was full or not. But my hands always shook whenever it was time to find out if I’d made it through to the next round of auditions, no matter how many times I’d gone through the exhilarating and, at times defeating, process. 

As per my own tradition, I waited until everyone else had seen the list before I took a look, needing to process the information in my own time. It was just callbacks, and I could normally count on at least being called back for a minor role, but I was extra nervous this time. The Hunger Games was one of my favorite plays. Reading it in high school had sparked my love for theater, and I would give my entire collection of cake decorating tools to be part of Panem’s production during my last semester of college. 

I forced my eyes to focus on the page and scan for my name. It didn’t take very long. Right at the top, under the name of the male lead GRAHAM, was the name of another theatre department regular, Cato Rogers, along with my own: Peeta Mellark. My dream role, with a 50/50 chance of being cast. I did the cool theatre kid nod of acknowledgment in case anyone else was still watching, but inside I was beaming. I needed this role. I needed one last good memory to hold onto before college ended and I’d have to decide whether I should get a job in hospitality and management, like my mother wanted, or be another foolish dreamer in New York City thinking they actually had a shot. No, this right here was my last chance. The only one that mattered right now.

I was too full of the moment, of the joy of spotting my name and the heaviness of knowing the role wasn’t mine yet, that I almost walked away without scanning the rest of the callback list. By this point, I knew almost everyone who wandered in and out of these productions. Most had been my castmates at one point or another. Sure enough, a few names I knew jumped out at me right away: Glimmer Diamonte, an obnoxious but beautiful blonde I’d acted opposite of before. Thresh Oakley, whose impressive stage presence watched his large stature. Amber Foxface, a clever and funny girl who, even while playing a minor role, could manage to steal the whole show. The usual suspects.

My eyes caught on the name of one of the two girls being called back for the role of Graham’s romantic counterpart, Iris. Not because I knew her from previous productions I’d been involved in. I’d never acted alongside her before. But also not because she was one of the rare newcomers who managed to impress the Director and head of the theater department, Haymitch Abernathy. I knew her name like I’d learned it along with my own, but I had never expected to see it there. Katniss Everdeen.

My mind immediately took me to the first time I’d ever seen that name: on the playbill of the school’s fall musical my freshman year. I couldn’t sing to save my life, so I hadn’t auditioned for the musical, preferring to stick with drama. But I wasn’t a theater snob and loved a good musical as much as the next Shakespeare-quoting thespian. I didn’t remember much of the musical because as soon as Katniss took the stage, I hadn’t bothered paying attention to the rest. She had a quiet, timid stage presence like she wasn’t entirely comfortable on stage. Like she dearly wished everyone would close their eyes so she could act in peace. But all of that changed when she started to sing her first solo. Everyone else in the theater had stopped moving, everyone under her spell. Her voice had been light and effortlessly lovely, full of emotion but never overbearing. It was quite simply perfect. As the musical went on, I’d also noticed that in addition to having the most beautiful voice I’d ever heard in my life, she was also beautiful in a way I couldn’t quite describe. Somewhere between her grey eyes, dark brown hair, and the way her face shone when she sang, I’d fallen in love. It was foolish, but I’d felt more for Katniss after two and a half hours of seeing her on stage than I’d felt for the girls in high school I’d dated for months at a time.

Feeling like a starstruck kid, I’d waited outside the stage door after the show to see her, but she never came out after curtain call. I’d caught every performance after that, and waited for her like a fool each time, but didn’t speak to her until the last one when she finally made an appearance. The rest of the night hadn’t gone how I’d expected, but I could remember every detail of it still like it was yesterday instead of four years ago.

This was the last Panem musical she’d been in, but I’d caught glimpses of her every few months in the library or dining hall or once at a local art museum. I hadn’t heard her sing since.

I didn’t know what had made her try out for The Hunger Games after all these years, but the idea of seeing her on a stage again made me happier than if Haymitch had just handed me the role of Graham. 

I was finally going to talk to Katniss again. To act alongside her, if only for a quick chemistry read. And most importantly, I was going to hear her sing again. 

Katniss POV

Feeling like some absurd nighttime bandit, I waited until close to midnight before I left my dorm. Panem U’s campus was never completely quiet, not even late on a Wednesday night. There were always stragglers going to or from a party, or to or from the library. It was easy to guess which judging by the level of deadness in their eyes. I quietly but quickly skirted around all of them with a very different destination. It was silly, waiting until nightfall to check the cast list. But I hated attention, hated having eyes following me unless I was on stage and blinded by stage lights. 

I still couldn’t believe I had auditioned. I hadn’t set foot in the theater department since the final show of the musical I’d starred in freshman year. After my father had died in an accident during that performance, singing had lost its appeal. Every time I tried to even hum a melody, I could hear my father’s screams in my ears. I hadn’t been there to hear them, but every night for months I’d gone to that moment in my dreams. Wondering how terrified he’d been. What his last thoughts were like. It was hard to think about performing when I felt haunted by his ghost.

But this was the last play I’d be eligible to audition for before graduation. It wasn’t a full-on musical, which had been my preference before, but the female lead did have a few solo numbers. I’d decided that I’d owed it to my father and to myself to try one last time. I’d pushed down my paranoia that another performance would mean another tragedy, and dragged myself to the audition. 

After a few false starts on the stage, severely testing Haymitch’s patience, I’d finally taken a deep breath and let myself perform the monologue and short song. It had gone quite well, I’d thought, at least before I’d exited the stage and promptly had a panic attack. And now, three days later, it was time for me to see if I made callbacks. As I approached the posted paper, I almost hoped my name wouldn’t be on it. That would make things so much easier. I could say I tried, and not risk more panic attacks or horrible consequences. But another part of me had revelled in the feeling of being on stage for the audition. 

Very few things came naturally to me. I wasn’t great around people. It took me years to trust even good friends. I had always been just an average student. But performing had always felt like coming home. As easy as an experienced hunter pulling back the string of a bow and letting it fly. 

I reached the callback list, and had to use the flashlight in my phone to read it in the dark. My heart managed to both sink and soar in my chest when I found my name next to a girl named Clove Greenbriar’s. I was being called back for the role of Iris. Almost afraid to think through everything that seeing my name up there could mean, I aimlessly scanned the rest of the crew list. I recognized a few names from that first musical I’d been in, but most of them were strangers to me after I’d left the theater scene at Panem. I turned to leave, before doing a double take at the list. Sure enough, there was his name. Peeta Mellark, for Graham. I quickly switched off my flashlight and headed back to my dorm.

Peeta would be at the callbacks. I’d assumed the callbacks would be a chemistry read to find the two romantic leads, so I’d be expected to read with him as well as another guy named Cato. The idea was almost enough to make me hurry back to the list, pull out a thick sharpie, and cross out my own name. I didn’t want to see Peeta again, let alone read a scene with him. I let so few people, even my closest friends like Gale or Madge, see me looking weak. But Peeta, a complete stranger, had seen me at my lowest. Had offered me a pity ride home when I’d been sobbing so hard I hadn’t been able to see straight. Had managed to comfort me when all I’d wanted to do was throw everything breakable in my apartment against a wall. 

This wouldn’t be the first time I’d seen Peeta since, but it would definitely be the longest. The handful of times I’d run into him over the past several semesters, I’d avoided him like the deadliest plague, refusing to even make eye contact even as I could feel my cheeks turning red. I didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes, or risk him stopping me to ask how I was. I couldn’t imagine anything more mortifying.

But crossing out my name would feel like letting my father down. He’d always loved my voice, which along with my dark hair and olive skin, I’d inherited from him. He’d been front row at every musical I’d been in in high school. Now that I’d proved that I could sing on stage again, I had no excuses not to. So, clenching my fists, I forced myself to continue making my way back to my dorm.

Long after I’d crawled into bed, quiet and careful so as not to wake my roommate Madge, I couldn’t shake the image of Peeta from my brain. Blonde hair, blue eyes, boyish face despite the faint brush of scruff across his chin. Strong arms gripping a steering wheel. A deep voice, steady and understanding. Memories that, along with the moment my mother called me to tell me the news about my father, and his funeral, I’d been trying to bury for years. Memories that were about to become fresh all over again when I would find myself back on stage with Peeta beside me.

I rolled over and plopped my pillow over my head. I wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight.


End file.
